For some moments not a single man moved. Attention had been shifted from the Blimp to the milk-white track in the water--the wake of the torpedo.
Only by prompt use of her helm had the Pomfret Castle escaped destruction. Even in home waters she had to run the gauntlet, despite the encircling line of destroyers.
With the utmost audacity a U-boat had lain submerged across the track of the convoy, trusting to be able to launch her bolt and disappear before even the swift destroyers could take her bearings, and close upon the spot where the tips of her periscopes had appeared when the torpedo had been discharged.
She had seen the escorting vessels and had taken the risk, but she had reckoned without the far-seeing eyes of the Blimp.
Already the airship had spotted a dark elongated shape be
